


Like Home

by SpyderScully



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, MSR, Season/Series 07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 16:26:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3699065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpyderScully/pseuds/SpyderScully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I've been working on this (dumb) long ficlet since February and I just now finished it. I have mixed feelings about Mulder and Scully being domestic together but if they were to be so, this is how I like to imagine them. Completely fanciful, probably out of character, and in every way indulgent. Takes place in the midst of season 7.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Home

Mulder would have sworn that he had been mistaken as he heard her soft request of "stay".

Both he and Scully were tired but relaxed when he saw her home after a particularly grueling flight following an equally grueling case. It was Friday night, cool for late spring, and it had only been a few months since he and Scully first found themselves in bed together for reasons other than company to soothe pain or to give platonic comfort.

Despite this new horizon, little had changed between them otherwise. Good humor and simmering chemistry was still rampant in both parties; both were still able to focus completely on their jobs. Only occasionally did a tiny slip of conduct occur: a hand slowly running down an arm, a warm glance that didn't dart away when the target met the other's gaze, an affectionate murmur that snuck in during an otherwise mundane discussion... Small things. Subtle things. Therefore it surprised him when her request for his company had been clearly disclosed.

"Mulder, stay." Her voice was a silky whisper.

"S-stay?" He questioned, not sure he had heard her correctly. They both stood motionless in the frame of her front door. He suddenly realized she had reached out and rested her hand gingerly on his forearm.

"I know how tired you are." She said softly, pressing her fingers against the sleeve of his wind breaker, "Don't drive. It's the weekend, we don't have anywhere to be tomorrow. Just sleep here."

"With me" was not added to the end of her sentence, but it sounded in Mulder's head nonetheless and he knew that was what she meant. Both he and Scully were too exhausted and too jet lagged for any roughhousing beneath the sheets, but the thought of curling around her as they slept brought him warmth and a sense of belonging that touched his very core. Hell, even if she was more comfortable with him sleeping on the couch tonight, he'd gladly do it if it meant seeing her face behind a cup of coffee the next morning.

He found himself smiling and despite her clear exhaustion, he could see the warmth simmer in her eyes as she realized he was accepting. She opened the door wider, as if to further annunciate her invitation. 

"Get your stuff from the car." She put forward, "You can shower first, I've got some things to put away."

Mulder nodded, making his way down the stairs to get his things. In the short time he walked back to her door again and had deliberated that he had a clean pair of shorts and a relatively clean shirt to wear to bed, he realized she had managed to bring life into the previously empty living space. He could hear the television droning lowly from the living room and he could definitely smell coffee and toast wafting from the warmly lit kitchen. He smiled as he set his case by the door, makeshift sleepwear in hand. 

"Coffee?" She had heard the door and called out to him in the hallway. 

"No, thanks." He responded, stepping into the kitchen just as she was scooping the grounds into the coffee machine, "It keeps me up."

"It's decaf."

"Still keeps me up."

Scully laughed for no apparent reason and he looked at her, startled by her lighthearted expression. She had removed her suit jacket and had pulled her hair up away from her face, making her look so young. She looked tired, but she didn't look beaten, as she occasionally did after a case had been wrapped. He almost ventured to realize she looked relaxed. 

He watched as she punched in the specifications to the coffee machine, and let his eyes follow her as she left it to burble and pulled several slices of steaming toast from the toaster onto a small plate. As she made her way to the refrigerator, he darted out and managed to pilfer one of the pieces of bread and take a hearty bite out of it. Even without butter, it tasted like home. He smiled at the welcoming taste as well as at the look on Scully's face when she turned - spreading knife and margarine container in hand - and her expression turned from puzzlement to playful indignation. 

"Mulder!" She laughingly made a token swipe at him to repossess the stolen snack but he managed to cram the rest of it into his mouth.

"Sdill t'ree swices leff, Scuwwy." He chortled thorough his mouthful. She relented, shaking her head in mock exasperation, shouldering past him to retrieve her salvaged toast. She was smiling.

"Go and take a shower before you discover the Pop Tarts - then I'll never get you out of this kitchen."

Still chuckling and chewing, he obeyed.

///

He came back fifteen minutes later, feeling refreshed and famished. Stepping into the kitchen he saw no sign of Scully and realized he must have missed her when she left for her room. He could hear her moving things about in the bathroom, sounds quickly followed by the hiss and loud patter of the shower head being turned on. Mulder refused to analyze how nice it felt to hear her near him and to merely feel her presence.

He additionally refused to analyze the surge of warmth and gratitude that flowed through his body when he spotted a mug of decaf tea and a generous plateful of margarine-slathered toast waiting for him on the drain board of the kitchen sink. He scooped up the makeshift meal, carrying it with him to the living room and settling down on the couch, flipping through the TV channels in habit rather than indulging a desire to find something to watch. He could hear Scully thudding and moving about on the other side of the wall and he closed his eyes for a moment, imagining her in her routine. 

He smiled to himself as he suddenly remembered the quip she had made about the Pop Tarts. He hadn't known she'd bought those; it must have been around the same time he had begun keeping Diet Coke and fruit blended smoothies in his refrigerator for her. He could have sworn he'd spotted two economy sized packages of sunflower seeds sitting near her bread box this very evening.

He half expected that she had hot pockets in the freezer, too.

In no time he was dozing off to the oh-so-subtle bellows of a dying wildebeest that had been attacked by an alligator, when he heard another sound that was not coming from the television. He lifted his head from the couch, frowning slightly as he recognized the tuneless alto of Scully humming. The frown of inquisitiveness molded into a smile of delight as his brain fully grasped what he was hearing.

Stiffly he pulled himself up from the couch, padding quietly across the living room to the kitchen, dutifully carrying his dishes for her. Scully was at the sink, washing out her coffee cup. She had her robe on, her hair still damp as she vigorously rubbed at the half-cleaned soapy mug in her hands. He knew she had heard him come in when she suddenly stopped humming. The fleeting glance at him over her shoulder accompanied by a sheepish smile further confirmed it.

Mulder couldn't resist. He set his dishes down on the countertop, pressing up against her as he slid his arms smoothly around her middle. 

He smiled when he noticed there was no stiffness in her stance, no indication of forced indifference. After the dawn of their new intimacy he had resigned himself to contend with feeling her hesitation at the slightest affectionate contact. For a while every embrace had been met with a tightening of her muscles, every gentle touch had been responded to with a quick, startled glance. Her hesitance had been surprising to him at first when he recalled how easily they had been affectionate with each other during their platonic years. It had taken him time to realize that Scully needed to grow used to the idea that his need to express affection was now okay for her to accept and relish. As the months wore on she had grown more relaxed and had not only begun to respond positively to his demonstrative nature (when the time and place was appropriate to her mind, naturally), but she had also become more physical herself. She touched his hands more frequently, he noted that she had begun pressing herself to his side when they walked together, and lately - if he was very, very lucky and the timing was just right - she'd taken to giving him a brief kiss good night when he occasionally saw her home.

He sighed quietly, relishing the feel of how her body responded welcomingly to his close proximity against her backside. The shoulders pressed against his chest were free of tension and resistance, allowing him to dip his head down to press an open-mouthed kiss to the curve of her neck. He heard a soft murmur of acknowledgment vibrate in her throat. 

"What was that you were trying to hum?" He mumbled against her skin, allowing his teeth to nip at her as they formed consonants. 

She exhaled in a soft chuckle.  
"It was supposed to be Debussy." She responded, her arm making a token effort to get on with wiping the plates before he felt her give up and allow him to completely envelope her. 

"Sounded like happiness to me." He kept his voice deep in his larynx, using the same pitch as when he whispered to her after they'd just made love. He heard her exhale in another near-soundless chuckle, and her arms moved to wrap over his, her fingernails lightly scratching the hair on his wrists. 

"You've got a good ear." She murmured. She let go, turning in his arms and pressing her face fully against his chest. He smiled, reminded once more of how small yet strong she was as she wriggled her arms out from his embrace to wrap them around his middle. He felt her squeeze him; briefly, tightly. In that squeeze he felt everything in her: relief, homesickness remedied, affection, contentment, and a small quiver of anxious anticipation for what the next day would bring. He knew she would never comprehend how much he treasured the fact he could now feel these things in her. 

He squeezed back, shifting his shoulder so that she lifted her head to look up at him. He bent down, allowing his lips to briefly press against hers.

"Love you." He murmured, smiling as she flushed and nestled her face into his chest again with a mumbled "you too". She still had yet to express herself while looking at him, as though the fact that she loved him was something she was still unconsciously training herself to disguise. He wasn't worried; she'd get there. The fact that she said it back at all was promising.

"Bed?" He felt the word vibrate against his chest, her soft puff of breath sifting through the material of his crew neck to brush against his skin as she spoke. He kissed the top of her head, nodding against her hair. 

"Bed." He responded, letting her go to allow her lead the way.


End file.
